


Blue Lips

by zetsubonna



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Comfort/Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:45:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2122413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina Spektor, “Blue Lips” - Fic Request, <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/users/melospiza/pseuds/melospiza">Melospiza</a>, Stucky</p>
<p><a href="http://wassup-holmes.tumblr.com/post/89632488092/blue-lips-blue-veins-the-color-of-our-planet">Fic this</a>, she said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Lips

Blue eyes on blue eyes, and they stared at each other in silence for several seconds. Steve was the first to look away, and that felt familiar. Bucky reached out to brush his fingers over Steve’s cheekbone, his expression so neutral when Steve leaned into the touch that he might have been consciously willing it blank, Steve couldn’t tell.

"Bucky," he began, only to feel Bucky’s finger press his lips together, signaling him to be quiet.

He closed his eyes and Bucky’s finger pushed past his lips, into his mouth, exploring the flat of his tongue with the sworl of his fingertip. Steve started to suck and Bucky cuffed him lightly in the knee. He fell still, and Bucky made a low, brief noise that might have been approval. More of the tension bled out from between them when Steve relaxed his jaw and let Bucky stroke his warm, wet, slippery tongue with his fingertip.

"Used to hate this," Bucky remembered. "Felt like a thermometer or induced vomiting. Made you angry."

Steve just exhaled through his nose.

"What changed?" Bucky asked, retracting his finger.

"I want you to trust me," Steve murmured, looking down at Bucky’s lap. "You used to- to trust me. I want you to trust me, that’s all."

Bucky squinted at Steve’s mouth, which only intensified when the scrutiny made him thirsty and his tongue darted out and across his lips. He caught it, pinned it between his fingers, frowning when Steve winced at him.

"Ain’t glass," he murmured, squeezing gently. "Used to tell me that. Made me- made me touch you rough, not rough enough to hurt, said it made you feel like an invalid if I was too gentle with you too much of the time."

He released Steve’s tongue, leaning in, brushing a kiss to his mouth.

Blue eyes met blue again, sun-kissed sea and stormy sky, and wasn’t that a perfect parallel?

"I ain’t either. Glass. Ain’t gotta do anything for me you don’t wanna. You don’t like my fingers in your mouth, spit ‘em out, pull away."

"Bucky," Steve began again, leaning forward.

Bucky put his hand over Steve’s face, gently shoving him back. “Second time we’re learning each other again. Still want it, though, don’t you?”

"You," Steve insisted, low, urgent. "Still want you, Bucky."

"Meant ‘us,’" Bucky clarified. "Still want us, crazy little shit that you are. I could hurt you again."

"You won’t," Steve murmured.

"I might." He leaned in, brushing his lips to Steve’s. Kisses were rare, now, rare as hen’s teeth, though he was starting to hint that he wanted them more now than he had when Steve had first found him. He was thawing, however slowly. "You going tomorrow?"

"Yes." Steve tilted his head to the side. "Are you?"

"Don’t know yet," Bucky shook his head. "Sleeping tonight?"

"Don’t know yet," Steve replied.

"Don’t want to go out," Bucky said, leaning his forehead on Steve’s shoulder. He was so close, closer than he’d been in a week. "Cold. I hate-"

"I know," Steve soothed, lifting his hand to stroke Bucky’s back, trying not to let his heart break when Bucky flinched before he relaxed.

"Hate the cold. Don’t like everything being different. Everything’s all-" he shook his head.

Blue eyes on blue eyes, gray and green, the sky and the sea, fringed by lashes blond and dark, in faces both far more worn than they remembered.

"Not everything," Steve tried, but Bucky frowned and flicked him in the forehead.

"Even you," Bucky disagreed.

"Same in a lot of places," Steve said. "Lips, you said. Eyes. Reckless idiot."

Almost a smile. The barest hint of a crinkle at the corner of an eye that picked up gun metal far easier than grass, an earnest, aching look in eyes exactly opposite, but still blue. Both so blue.

"Steve," Bucky pressed their foreheads together. "You ain’t-"

"I am," Steve said, and there was a tremor in his voice that even Bucky’s muddled mind could recognize was rare. "Was and am and will be, Buck. Whatever, whenever you want. Don’t even have to say the word, just-"

Bucky sat back, shaking his head. “I know. But you shouldn’t have to wait for me to do it.”

"You want me to do it?" Steve’s face was so lost as to be nearly comical.

"Nah," Bucky’s hand came up and cupped the back of his neck. He brushed his mouth over Steve’s, taking in the way Steve arched toward him like a sunflower tracking the sky. "Just take it slow. We waited seventy years. What’s a little while longer?"

Blue eyes on blue eyes. Warmth, in the little apartment. Two strong, steady bodies with only one arm and a few other pieces missing, all compensated for almost perfectly, almost effortlessly.

"What’s a little while longer?" Steve echoed.

Mirrors placed across from each other were just as deep, even if the disparity in hue was not accounted for. Times before. Times to come. It was all one long line, wasn’t it?


End file.
